


Strangers on a (Northbound) Train

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Chance Meetings, Lost Love, M/M, Second Chances, Separations, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: "Hast du dich verlaufen?"Boris watched as the child before him sniffled and blinked, trying desperately to hide his distress. He seemed a year or two younger than Milos but about the same height and with the same large green-hazel eyes. Perhaps that was why he felt so drawn to help.A soulmate AU.
Relationships: Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz/Hank Lawson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	Strangers on a (Northbound) Train

Germany, March 1982 

Hank was not going to cry. He wasn't. He was eight and a half years old, a big kid, and he was not going to break down into tears just because he couldn't find his parents on the train and everyone around him seemed to be speaking a language he didn't understand at all. It had all started a month earlier when his dad had come home with big news-- he got a gig in Europe and he was going to bring the whole family along. His father said they were headed to Berlin, a place Hank had learned about in school. His teacher Mr. Marsh said it used to be one big city but now there was a big wall running through it. They were going to see the wall, which was pretty cool. His father had said their trip to Germany was going to be fun, a real once in a lifetime vacation… But his parents spent the next month fighting about it most of the time. His mom didn't want them to go. She kept whispering to his dad when she thought he and Evan were asleep that it was a bad idea and that he was putting them all at risk. His father insisted that he would not allow the whole family to go if it was going to be dangerous. They were a good cover and why was she trying to ruin a perfectly nice vacation.

The first plane took them to Chicago, which didn't really make sense to Hank because Germany was the opposite direction on the globe at school. The second plane landed in a big city his father called Munich but Hank was pretty sure the people who lived there called it something else. They saw a bunch of old buildings which was kind of fun and ate white sausage that looked weird but tasted good and wandered around until he thought his legs might fall off. After a couple days of sight seeing they got on the train that was going to take them to Berlin. 

From the minute they walked into the train station Hank's stomach felt… weird. At first he thought it was the Nutella toast from breakfast. His mom had warned him that it would give him a stomachache, so he didn't say anything. He didn't want his dad to get in trouble for letting him have it in the first place. It didn't get worse on the train but it didn't get better, either. Two or three hours of looking out the window and counting sheep and castles with Evan had passed when Hank told his parents he needed to use the bathroom and insisted he could find it himself. It turned out to be harder than he thought. The bathrooms were really far up front and after he splashed some water on his face he couldn't figure out which way he should go to get back to his family. He was pretty sure he needed to turn left, but his stomach still felt funny and he really wanted to go right. He was a little scared and really lost and he just didn't know what to do.

And that's where he was, alone and overwhelmed, when they met for the first time.

"Hast du dich verlaufen?" 

Boris watched as the child before him sniffled and blinked, trying desperately to hide his distress. He seemed a year or two younger than Milos but about the same height and with the same large green-hazel eyes. Perhaps that was why he felt so drawn to help.

"I'm trying to be brave." The boy managed in a choked voice. "My name is Hank and I'm lost and I can't find my family and I don't understand what anyone is saying."

"I speak English." Boris assured him quickly. "My name is Boris, and I will help you find your parents. It is going to be okay."

"Promise?" The voice squeaked. 

"Of course." Boris answered gently, taking the stranger's small hand in his.

He was only slightly surprised when the boy enveloped him in a desperate hug and began to cry in earnest. Big tears ran down splotchy cheeks while Boris found himself wondering what kind of irresponsible adult would allow such a sweet and trusting child to wander around unsupervised on a train in a foreign country. He let go of Hank's hand to rub the child's back, comforting him like he would for Milos when his uncle traveled. The boy nuzzled in closer to him, face pushing against the fashionably open collar of his shirt to rest against the skin on his chest.

Boris drew in a harsh breath as he felt a sudden burning sensation sear its way across the flesh under Hank's cheek. It didn't hurt, it was just extraordinarily intense. At the same time he felt something shift and he wasn't sure if it was the train jolting or the ground moving or something much bigger what was happening until Hank gasped and held up his hand.

Hast du dich verlaufen

Boris' own handwriting stared back at him from the child's hand. It was unmistakable. He spoke five languages fluently and yet he had no words for what was happening. Perhaps it was a trick, a practical joke from a cousin. Perhaps-- 

"Look, you have one, too!" Hank exclaimed, delicately tracing his fingers over the words on Boris' chest that certainly hadn't been there before. "Didn't I just say that to you?"

Boris prided himself on being a responsible, independent young man. He was confident and hard working and always sensible. He was also not-quite-seventeen and knew almost nothing about soulmates aside from a few common movie tropes-- not that he had ever watched one of those. He knew in real life not many people had soulmates, or maybe it was more that most people never found theirs, because he rarely saw people with soulmarks. He knew your soulmark was the first thing your soulmate said to you and that it always appeared on the first place they touched their skin to yours. Aside from that? The more intimate details were considered fairly taboo to discuss in polite company. He had no earthly idea what to do next.

"Come, let us find your parents." He said reassuringly, hoping he was incorrect in his assumption that Hank's parents were fools of the highest order. Perhaps they would know what to do next.

"Okay." Hank answered happily.

The child's little hand closed around his and warmth surged through his body. He wanted-- No, he needed to protect the boy. He had no idea what proper etiquette or protocol was in this particular situation, but he wasn't too proud to ask for help. He would consult with Hank's parents to decide the best course of action going forth.

"Do you know which direction your family might be in?" He asked his soulmate gently.

Hank looked around very seriously as he considered the question and Boris brushed back a wild curl from the child's forehead. The warm, secure feeling in his chest lazily unfurled and stretched out with even the smallest contact. The closer they were, the better he felt. It was interesting. It was wonderful. It was so new and yet he instinctively knew he could never be without it again. Those silly soulmate films suddenly felt much less ridiculous. He made a mental note to have some procured for him-- and books. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about bonding. There were only a finite number of years they could have together, and Boris was going to make sure every moment was magnificent.

"I think that way." The boy finally answered, pointing towards the economy seats.

They walked the length of the train hand-in-hand until they finally located Hank's family in the third car from the end. Boris wondered if they were not well off financially. Within the next few months he would receive his full inheritance and he could help them-- Quietly, of course. Perhaps he could arrange for a higher paying job for Hank's father. He would have them background checked then make further plans once he was settled at Castle Güterfelde.

"Dad! We found you!" Hank yelled, holding up their joined hands. "And look, I got words!"

"Is that--?" Hank's father asked, looking shocked. Boris was certain he saw something else flash across the man's face, something that made his stomach clench for some reason, but then it was gone. "That's great, kiddo. Why don't you go tell your mom?"

"Okay!" Hank agreed cheerfully, his small hand slipping from Boris' larger one. The loss made him feel slightly off-balance.

"And you are?" Hank's father asked, keeping an eye on his son. Boris barely kept his face neutral-- Oh, now the man was paying attention to his child's location. 

"Boris Alexander Maximilian Lois Ferdinand Friedrich Magnus Küster von Jurgens-Ratenicz, Archduke of Lombardy, Venetia, Tuscany, Dalmatia and Croatia, Duke of Swabia, Count of Szőgyény–Marich." He answered politely, taking the man's proffered hand in a perfunctory shake.

Hank's father let out a low whistle. "That's quite the name." 

"I am from a very prestigious family." He replied solemnly. "Please, call me Boris."

He wanted to impress Hank's father. He certainly didn't like the man, but if the father was important to the son-- That was more than enough reason for him to want the man to like him. They would be in each other's lives for the next twenty-five years or so. He could do that small thing for Hank. Hank, who would need a support network as his soulmate slowly withered away from incurable illness before him. The poor child.

"So, Boris. How did this happen?" His soulmate's father questioned, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. "He's so young. You're so young!"

"Hank became lost returning from the restrooms, he said he became nervous when the people around him were not speaking English. I happened to be nearby and after I offered to help he was relieved and hugged me. That is when it happened." Boris shared. 

"So how do you feel about it?" The man questioned surprisingly gently. 

"I am still sixteen. I am not ready to have a soulmate." Boris confided quietly. "I need to attend university. There is a family situation I must rectify."

"Of course." Hank's father cooed. It felt patronizing. "You're still a kid yourself! Don't beat yourself up about it."

Boris looked over at Hank, who was eagerly showing his soulmark to his mom and brother, then pulled a business card from his breast pocket. "This is my full name, my home telephone, and the name of my family's primary business." He said as he handed it to Hank's father. "If he needs anything-- Absolutely anything, even if it is just to talk-- Call that number and someone will reach me wherever I am."

"Don't worry, kiddo. We'll keep taking good care of him while you both grow up." Hank's father said, patting him on the shoulder. Boris was about to request the man's number in return when his soulmate came bounding over to them.

"Come see my mom!" He exclaimed with a smile like sunshine, lacing their fingers together. Boris let himself be dragged away while making a mental note to request their full names, phone number, and address before his stop. "She really wants to meet you."

Hank changed slightly as they stood before his mother. He straightened his posture, took a calming breath before he spoke, and his bright grin faltered at the edges. Boris did not like it. He'd thought Hank's father was the odious one, but his bonded looked almost nervous around his mother. Cerulean eyes flicked over to where Hank's brother leaned against his mother's side. He suspected Hank's brother was their mother's favorite, Hank's father loved himself--Who was looking after his soulmate?

"My name is Boris. It is lovely to make your acquaintance." He said stiffly, offering the woman his hand. She didn't take it, but she did nod approvingly. 

"What nice manners. See, Hank? Manners are very important." Boris felt Hank shrink closer to his side. "Where do you go to school, Boris?"

"Eton; I hope to attend Oxford University then Wharton School of Business in the future. For now I am traveling to visit my father at our family estate in Güterfelde."

"Very impressive, your parents must be very proud. Hank, do you hear that? Your friend goes to the best school in the world. He must be a very hard worker. If you want him to like you, you have to do well in school."

Boris was not quite sure what to do. He did not want to anger Hank's mother, but he needed to reassure the child. His soulmate was staring at the floor like he wished he could melt through it. 

"Hank, would you like to sit and look out the window with me? I could tell you about the villages going by." He asked the suddenly downtrodden child beside him.

His soulmate nodded more reservedly than before. They settled themselves into the seats across the aisle from Hank's parents while Boris pointed out tiny hamlets and lesser castles and taught him simple German vocabulary-- The sheep, das Schaf. The cow, die Kuh. The big, grand castle was das Schloß while a medieval one was die Burg. Grüß Gott was how people wished one another 'good day' in the southern part of the country. He made Hank laugh when he explained 'aufbrezeln', the word for 'to dress up very flashy', translated literally as 'to get pretzeled up'. Eventually Hank's parents started quietly talking between themselves and presented him with the opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Do you remember what your mother said earlier, about how I might not like you if you don't work hard enough?" He murmured conspiratorially.

"Yeah." 

"Hank, she was wrong. I will like you no matter what." Boris promised quietly. "There is nothing you could ever do to make me not like you, because to me you are the most important person in the entire world."

He was a little startled at the truth behind his words. He did like Hank. He trusted the child more than anyone else he had ever met. The initial knee-jerk fear at having a soulmate at all had started to pass and truthfully he was starting to embrace it. 

"Boris?" 

"Yes?"

"I love you." He mumbled, that tiny voice of his suddenly sounding very sleepy.

"You must be tired." Boris murmured back. "Shall I tell you a story?"

Hank nodded. It felt like a nuzzle against his arm. "Yeah."

"Once upon a time, there was a handsome duke--"

"What's a duke?" 

"It's like a prince." Boris answered as he rested his chin on soft chestnut-colored curls. "There lived a handsome man named Duke Boris--"

Hank's eyes popped open. "Are you really just like a prince?"

"I am. My father is unwell so you can't meet him, but he is a duke. Since he is a duke and I am his firstborn son, I am a duke as well." He didn't say it was his father dying that brought him home in the middle of the school year. He did not want to burden a child, but for just a moment he had the chance to stop pretending everything was okay when nothing could be further from the truth. Sharing his family's deepest secret with his soulmate gave him a little rush-- He had someone he could trust. He didn't have to worry about secondary motives. Maybe being bonded would suit him. "Duke Boris was riding through the countryside one day when he met a wonderful knight."

"Was he brave? And strong?"

"Very." Boris assured him. "His name was Sir Hank, and Duke Boris knew the second they met that Sir Hank was going to be his very closest friend. He thought about all the incredible adventures they would have together and how much he liked Sir Hank. There was only one small problem."

Hank yawned and curled closer against him. "What was the problem?"

"Ah. You see, Duke Boris had a quest he had to finish and Sir Hank was not old enough to help. Duke Boris gave Sir Hank's father a magical piece of paper so even when they had to be apart they could talk whenever they liked." Boris paused. "Hank, I still have to finish my schooling. We will be apart for a little while."

"I don't want you to leave. I want to stay with you. Can't you come live with us?" The child asked plaintively. 

"Not yet. But someday, Hank, you and I will travel the world together." He murmured to his soulmate as the boy's eyes drifted shut beside him. The child didn't say anything, but Boris could swear he felt sadness radiating from him. "I'll show you castles in the mountains during winter and during the summer I'll bring you to Shadow Pond. We are going to have a wonderful life together, Hank. That I promise."

"Can I talk to you whenever I want?" 

"Of course. I hope you will call and write often; your father has my telephone number and address." He promised. "I want to hear all about your life, Hank. I cannot be there with you yet, but I do not want to miss a single moment that is important to you."

His bonded's rhythmic breathing a moment later was his only answer. The train car was wonderfully warm in the afternoon sun and his soulmate felt so nice against him. He meant to close his eyes for just a second… The next thing he knew someone was lightly shaking his shoulder. 

"Your stop is coming up next." Hank's father said by way of explanation. 

Boris blinked the bleariness away and took stock of where he was. At some point Hank had apparently climbed into his lap like a kitten and then fallen back asleep with his head resting against Boris' soulmark. Warmth radiated through him. It just felt so perfect. 

"Thank you." He replied belatedly, realizing Hank's father was still standing there staring at him.

"Why don't you give him to me and you can get going?" The man suggested.

Nothing could have sounded like a worse idea. Hank's small hand was safe in his larger one, his thumb stroking his bonded's mark. They were meant to be together. It felt wrong to even consider leaving, but his father was dying and he had an empire to rebuild and in order to do that he had nine years of education to complete first. It was the correct thing to do, and he always did the correct thing. He just had to be strong. They could still talk or write or even visit during school breaks. It would be okay. 

"I love you, too, Hank. We are going to have a wonderful life together when we are older." He murmured against those precious chestnut curls. "Contact me soon, please. Bis später."

"Come 'ere, kiddo." Hank's father said, taking his still sleeping soulmate from his arms. "You'd better go, you'll miss your stop."

"Of course." Boris answered solemnly.

His arms should have felt lighter without holding the weight of another human in them but instead his entire existence felt heavier. He wanted to ask Hank's father a hundred questions about where they were going and would they be safe there and how was their home and did Hank have all he needed and when could he see the child again? Then the doors of the train opened and he didn't have time--He needed to go, even if with each step he took away the warmth faded from his chest.

"Dad, where is he going?" He heard Hank question drowsily just before the doors closed behind him.

Boris watched the train pull away from the platform, a dull ache settling in his chest as it disappeared from view.

Cuba, 2004

Boris loved Marisa. He was enchanted by her laugh, her smile, her intelligence. He adored everything about her. She would have been perfect for him--Except that she was not his soulmate. His heart did not exist to beat alongside hers. Boris looked at the clock as he let out a deep breath. Twenty-two years ago he had met his soulmate and lost him in the same afternoon.

The fact was, he'd spent the past twenty-two years searching for Hank. Even with his near limitless resources no one had been able to find his soulmate. The only information he had was: Hank-- which was likely a nickname, suspected age-- plus or minus a year or two, and likely brunet with green-hazel eyes. Possibly from near New York City. Possibly. It hadn't been enough to find the man again and he couldn't divulge what Hank's soulmark said lest someone attempt to impersonate him.

He was running out of time. What a fool he had been to let his bonded slip through his fingers, naively assuming that a card given to his father with Boris' name and phone number would be enough to keep them in contact. Not quite seventeen, he hadn't fully understood the magnitude of the situation until he'd arrived at Castle Güterfelde feeling deeply unsettled and told his childhood nanny about what had transpired. She had been frantic and insistent he return to find Hank immediately. Bonded mates were not meant to be apart, she explained. She was sorry she hadn't told him sooner, she hadn't expected he would meet someone while he was still so young. She told him that they would be able to feel one another through their shared connection and that the farther apart they were, the more uncomfortable they would be. It went unsaid that as Boris' father's death neared, Hank would feel the echoes of Boris' pain without knowing why. It would be agonizing for the child.

It had been his first major life lesson-- Ignorance did not excuse one from consequences. It didn't matter that he hadn't known not to leave his bonded, they would both suffer the consequences. He left his soulmate with the irresponsible people who had not only allowed an eight-year-old to run around unsupervised on a train in a foreign country where he did not even speak the language, but had also let that child's soulmate leave him. Had they known the turmoil they were inflicting on their son with their actions? Did they care? There was no telling how often Hank would be in danger due to their negligence or how often he would be alone and afraid-- And Boris would be completely unable to help. It was unacceptable. It was his own fault.

First he had to learn to better control his own emotions. It was unfair that a child had to feel fear or loss just because he did. He needed to be mindful and do what was best for his soulmate, which included returning immediately to find him. Then he would simply enroll the child at Eton with him. Oxford was nearby, and when he attended Wharton to complete his master level studies in six years Hank could switch to Eton's long distance programming. Boris would receive his Masters in Business and Finance just in time for Hank to start University if he so chose and there were many excellent choices both in Switzerland and New York City, where his family's banks were located. His plan had felt flawless at the time-- Though as an adult Boris could nearly laugh at his youthful naivete. Hank's parents, no matter how irresponsible, would not have allowed his self absorbed plans. He had put himself first with the assumption his bonded would just acquiesce and separate from his parents despite still being a child, and follow his career around.

That same afternoon in 1982 he had returned to Berlin in order to comb the streets for his soulmate and begin the search that would consume not only the next four days, but also the twenty subsequent years of his life. Quickly as Hank had appeared to him, the child had vanished. All that was left was the memory of their meeting and words branded across his chest in an almost illegible scrawl: 

I'm trying to be brave

He knew the remainder of Hank's childhood was unpleasant. The feelings of sadness and helplessness that regularly filtered through their bond became markedly worse six years later and came to a crescendo in 1989. Boris had been twenty-three then, a recent Wharton graduate working in Manhattan, and able to feel his soulmate was both physically near to him and in emotional agony. He had half the city canvassed by private investigators while he worked hundred hour weeks rebuilding his family's business. He could feel himself splintering under the pressure, but what choice did he have? He could not let either task fall by the wayside. He would not let his family's legacy die and he needed to find his bonded in order to comfort the man and keep him safe-- But no matter how hard he looked or how many people he hired, no one could find Hank.

The years ticked by. Boris rebuilt his father's depleted empire and settled into a penthouse overlooking Central Park. He reopened Shadow Pond when he felt like he was being smothered by hopelessness and humanity itself. In 1991 he'd felt sudden joy-- he assumed Hank had received a college acceptance letter or something of the like. After four years of stress the same feeling followed in 1995, 1998, and once more in 2001-- Boris was not certain, but he suspected Hank was a lawyer or something of the sort. Whatever career he had chosen, it seemed to require many years of specialized training. He could feel the tension echoing from his soulmate as the man studied and worked. He tried to send feelings of calm in return, but of course he had no way to know whether he was ever successful.

He would never call falling in love with Marisa an accident, but it certainly had not been part of his plan. He first heard of an exceedingly discreet, world class geneticist while pursuing his quest to extend his life beyond the paltry forty-odd years fate gave all the men of his line. He'd moved quickly on the information and shortly thereafter organized a three month trip to her practice in Cuba for testing and discussion of treatment options. From the moment he'd first laid eyes on her he'd been entranced by her beauty and wit and verve. When their fingers brushed over a stack of forms he swore there had been sparks. If Boris hadn't already had a soulmate, he would have been certain she was his. 

Marisa saw his soulmark for the first time during a routine electrocardiogram. He'd been upfront about his situation and she'd accepted what it was he could offer her: companionship, romance, and three months. They made love for the first time that night and as they laid in the moonlight together with Marisa's hair tickling his mark Boris had expected to feel like he'd betrayed Hank in some way-- But he hadn't. He'd spent his entire adulthood having sex with partners who understood they could never mean anything to him and after searching for his lost soulmate for more than half his life he was more weary than he'd realized. Perhaps it would not hurt to love someone for just a short while. Three months turned into six and before he knew it he was considering extending his trip a second time. Romantically everything was wonderful. Health-wise? Well. As the months passed it looked less and less likely they were anywhere near developing a treatment for his disease. His time was running out.

Boris looked at the incredible woman beside him. He had perhaps seven years left to live. He could stay in his Cuban paradise for six more months or a year or even until his disease took him and eat papaya and mangoes and enjoy the salt tinged air and make love with a beautiful woman and dance under the moonlight at Cristobal Square. The remainder of his life could be wonderful with Marisa by his side. It would be so simple to accept it as his fate.

That wasn't what he needed, though. 

The truth was ugly and bare before him. She was so many incredible things but she could never be the one thing he truly needed-- his soulmate. Having Marisa was not enough for him. Nothing short of locating Hank would allow him to go to his grave without regret. He wanted Hank. He wanted to spend every last second he had on Earth with his bonded, even if it was only trying to find the surprisingly elusive man. For the first time in months Boris felt a well of energy awake within him. He could not give up. In the morning he would leave, no matter how it would hurt them both.

Long Island, May 2009

Hank spent most of his angst-filled teenage years and young adulthood convinced that he must be cursed. His father ran away from their family, his mother died of cancer, and he somehow met his soulmate halfway across the world only for them to both still be children and lose contact completely. The beautiful script on his hand proved that it was real, that he hadn't imagined it. 

Hast du dich verlaufen

It taunted him. Every time he put on or took off a pair of gloves-- which was dozens of times a day at least-- the script stared back at him. Sometimes he did feel lost. Sometimes he felt like he was adrift in the ocean and would never be able to find his way back to land. During undergrad he'd seen a psychologist and a general practice doctor about it only to be sent to a bonding specialist who said the feeling was to be expected, bonded pairs were not meant to be apart. Especially not for ten years. 

Twenty-seven years apart was nearly unheard of. Of course, most people didn't bump into their soulmates as children on a train in a different country. As it turned out there were a lot of men named Boris in Germany. When he'd first gotten access to a computer with internet service in his senior year of highschool he'd searched. He didn't have much to go off, he didn't even know the man's last name. It was possible he was living in Germany or England, but with their age gap the man would have already finished college and could be anywhere. Hank knew Boris had felt he was too young to have a soulmate, but Hank didn't actually know what that age had been. He was fairly certain his bonded was in highschool when they met. 

One night right before Hank's ninth birthday he'd woken up in unimaginable agony. He felt like his chest was being torn in two and he didn't know how to make it stop. He cried until he vomited and his parents had one of those hushed adult conversations about if he needed to see a doctor. He didn't want a doctor, he insisted. He needed Boris. He needed to talk to his soulmate. His father calmly explained Boris wasn't ready for so much responsibility yet and refused to listen when Hank told him that Boris had said they could talk on the phone whenever he wanted. Day by day and year after year his soulmate became an increasingly taboo subject in their house. When Hank was eleven he made a picture in art class of the view from the German train's window and taped it up next to his bed. Three days later he'd found it crumpled in a ball in the kitchen garbage. When Hank was thirteen he mentioned when they'd had white sausage-- weißwurst, he'd learned at school-- during their trip and the entire table had gone silent. He couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to talk about it. How could his parents keep them apart? He tried to talk to them: he told them how he missed Boris every day and how he thought about his bonded all the time-- no matter how much the family avoided the topic. 

At first they tried to distract him or change the subject. Later they tried to ignore what he was saying. Finally they gave him their real answer: they had decided years earlier that they'd give him his soulmate's contact information when he was eighteen. They didn't think it was appropriate for a man Boris' age to be friends with a child or teenager like Hank-- It was a recipe for disaster, they insisted. He'd begged for them to change their minds. He promised he could turn his A- grades into A+ ones. He would join the gifted program like his mother wanted. He would do absolutely anything just to be able to hear his soulmate's voice over the phone. They chided him for not understanding where they were coming from and promised it was for his own protection. He was angry and sad and overwhelmed-- and then he thought about his soulmate who was probably a student at Oxford by then and joined the gifted program anyway just to feel closer to him.

Then he turned fifteen and everything changed. His mother got sick and his father left and he was holding everything together with his own desperation. He kept track of his mother's appointments and medications and made sure the bills were paid just enough for the utilities to stay on while leaving enough for dinner and desperately searched what had been his father's study for Boris' card. It was gone. He found himself begging his mother again, this time for the man's full name. He didn't even need his soulmate's phone number, he could find it himself if she would just tell him Boris' last name. If he could just talk to his soulmate he knew the man would help them. She could see a better doctor. They could get fresh food instead of canned or frozen. Instead of giving him his soulmate's name his mother got upset and started coughing and he never mentioned Boris to her again.

He held himself together surprisingly well after his mother died until a lawyer told him that he and Evan were being separated and sent into foster care. They'd exhausted all other options, there just wasn't anyone who could take them both in. By then he was sixteen with just two more years until college but Evan was only ten--They could be separated for years. He'd lost his soulmate, his dad, his mom, and now he was losing his brother. That far off night when he was not quite nine echoed in his mind as he felt that familiar tearing feeling in his chest. He didn't think he would ever be okay again until one day Winnie kissed him and promised he didn't have to be alone. 

Hank spent the next fifteen years confirming she was right. He was voracious for love in whatever form he could get it: longer term dating, shorter term flings, single night stands. He always came back to Winnie eventually-- until one day he didn't. He asked Nikki to marry him after six months and he wasn't sure if Winnie or Evan was more upset. Things were a mess and everyone was mad at him and then he got fired. His life savings went to his lawyers. His fiancée dropped him like a sack of bricks. He sat on his recliner and drank until the pain numbed. After a month Evan showed up with some harebrained idea about a party and refused to give up on him. His brother got him in the shower, in clean clothes, and sober for the first time in weeks. No matter how snarky he was Evan had nothing but optimistic --if absolutely ridiculous-- plans for the night. He swore to himself that later, much later, he'd let his little brother know how much he appreciated it. Much later.

From the moment he approached the front doors of the modern-day castle something felt different. Evan said the estate was owned by 'some German dude' and Hank had definitely misheard him as saying 'duke'. He considered asking his brother to repeat himself, but after twenty-seven years it just seemed a little sad and a lot desperate to still be looking around every corner for a soulmate that was long gone. He kept trying to explain the strange feeling to himself as the party wore on-- maybe it was all the available women, maybe it was the alcohol-- but he'd been nursing the same glass of wine all evening and the feeling only seemed to be getting stronger. He felt a euphoric, churning anticipation bubbling under his skin that he almost enjoyed except that he kept saying the exact wrong thing to all the beautiful models that spoke to him, and what was going on? When someone called for help it felt merciful. He needed to be saved from himself, apparently, as he watched another woman walk away from him looking repulsed. 

April needed help and he was glad to give it. Someone said the estate owner's name was Boris but he tried not to think about it too much because as he'd learned in the mid nineties-- there were plenty of German men named Boris. It probably wasn't him. The strange sensation of being too aware of his own skin pulled at him like a rubber band stretching while he worked-- and then it snapped. His heart started pounding as he was flooded with feelings of relief and joy and love and lust that were completely at odds with the current medical emergency. With a suddenly dry mouth he called for an ambulance.

"No, thank you. No, no paramedics."

For a fraction of a second Hank let himself hope. The voice was so familiar. He snuck a furtive look at his hand--was his soulmark doing anything? Wasn't it supposed to glow or something? Did that only happen at the first meeting? He wasn't sure. He'd spent his career avoiding the soul bonding classes and any other opportunity for someone to bring up his mark. In retrospect, it had been a short sighted decision.

"You mean no cops." Hank shot back, looking up. His heart sank. 

The Boris in front of him-- he assumed this was the estate's owner and he'd been told the estate's owner was named Boris-- and his soulmate Boris may have been about the same height, but that was the only similarity he could see. His Boris was lean--almost gangly-- with chestnut hair, a narrow jaw, and eyes that were blue as the German sky on the day they met. He was attractive in an approachable way. This Boris, the wrong Boris, was completely the opposite: intimidatingly handsome with a square jaw, broad shoulders, and an impressive head of artfully tousled silver hair that made his cerulean eyes look hypnotic. His Boris was unfailingly polite and kind, this Boris was arrogant.

Maybe that was why he continued to lash out. For one perfect moment he actually thought he'd finally reunited with his bonded. He'd met a German man named Boris and it was somehow the wrong one. Maybe he really was cursed. As if the whole situation didn't have him feeling off-balance anyway, the more he lashed out at Boris the more the man seemed to like him-- and that was only the start of his strange behavior. He glowered at April while she recovered in the guest suite he'd offered her. He tripped over Hank's name and offered him the same seat twice. When he introduced himself by full name he waited expectantly for some kind of reaction. Hank had assumed Boris liked his privacy, Boris said he valued his privacy, but if Boris expected to be recognized he had to be some kind of celebrity. The strangest part was that no matter how many times Hank indicated he was about to leave, the slightest look from the silver-haired man had him suddenly changing his mind. He never changed his mind once it was made up. The entire night had been strange from the start, and maybe he wouldn't thank Evan after all.

"Where are you staying?" Boris questioned as they stood slightly too close in front of his glass desk. 

"Some theme park in Worsthampton." He answered against his better judgement. 

The nobleman took a step closer and Hank felt his heart start to beat faster. "Stay in my guest cottage. For the summer." 

Boris' hand stroked across his cheek in a gesture that made Hank smoulder from the inside out. He leaned into the dizzying heat and the smell of the man's skin, wanting nothing more than to give into the sensation drawing him in. Boris moved closer, until Hank's thighs were pressed against the edge of the desk and the nobleman was somehow both scant inches and too far away at the same time. Hank licked his lips. It was a nervous gesture but he wasn't scared; he wasn't sure what he was feeling but his heart was racing and he couldn't seem to look away from the nobleman's lips. Anticipation sent a small and unwelcome shiver up his spine.

Impatiently Boris closed the distance between them and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. Hank was a seasoned kisser. He was a good kisser. He was not prepared for what it felt like to kiss Boris. Uncontrollable lust flooded every sense as the man's lips moved over his own while long fingered hands pulled them together until every inch of their bodies were pressed tightly together and Hank could feel exactly how much the nobleman wanted him. Honestly, it always felt good to be wanted-- But being desired by Boris? Every brush of the man's fingertips against him was incredible, sending heat searing through him. The way Boris made him feel was incomparable to anything he'd ever felt before. 

Hank broke the kiss, hoping the cool air of the room would stop the dizzying feeling of being overheated, only to immediately realize Boris had other ideas. The man nipped from his jaw to his collarbone, breath hot against his neck. Hank's body felt like tinder and the nobleman a flame. Every touch was another spark between them and his traitorous body was begging for an inferno. Hank grabbed the man's hips to keep upright and he couldn't remember fully clothed friction ever making him feel like he felt at that moment. Boris growled low in his throat at the intimate contact between them and moved to unfasten the top button of his black shirt.

"Wait." Hank gasped. "Wait. I can't. I have a soulmate."

Boris' crystal blue eyes were clouded with desire and something else he couldn't seem to identify. "Oh?"

"Yeah. We're--" Hank looked for the right word as he took a forceful step away and straightened his clothes. "--Separated, but I can't be with a man knowing he's out there somewhere."

The nobleman quirked an eyebrow. "You are impressively loyal. What a fortunate bonded you have." 

"I-- I should go." Hank said, already moving to the door.

Boris tilted his head slightly, somehow looking completely unruffled. Amused, even. "You never did answer if you're interested in the vacancy. I would expect nothing in return, to be clear."

"Yea--No, I'm only out here for the weekend." The room was too hot and too small and he needed to get out before he made a mistake in the moment.

"Still, if you extend your stay." Boris clapped his hands against his thighs and the door swung open. Hank got his brother and he got his car and he got the hell out of there.

The next day was a whirl. He really liked Jill, who was Nikki's opposite in every way, and the work was admittedly interesting even as he continued to insist he would only be out for the weekend. That hollow feeling he'd grown used to living with seemed to have eased a surprising amount between time spent in the sun and with patients. Staying seemed more tempting by the hour and when Jill wrote her number on his hand-- Maybe he was meant to meet her. Maybe he could take a summer and rest and recoup. By the end of the night he'd decided. It wasn't like he was signing his life away, just a summer. He could even leave earlier if he wanted. Most importantly, Hank was certain there would not be a repeat of what happened in the office. He would be polite yet distant and make sure they were never together alone. Ever.

"A-ha! The good doctor." Boris called in jovial greeting as he emerged glistening from the pool. Hank tried to avert his eyes as water sluiced down the man's impressively sculpted form and cascaded over a European bathing suit that left nearly nothing to the imagination. 

Before the last few days the decision to avoid romantic entanglements with men aside from his soulmate had been so easy. He loved women with their gentle curves and soft laughs and coy smiles. If he occasionally-- or regularly-- imagined what it would be like in bed with a man, it was generally fleeting. Hank certainly never felt like he was missing anything until he'd found himself liplocked with the most attractive person he'd ever met. Hank gently shook his head a little to clear it. Boris turned farther away to take a robe from his assistant and Hank couldn't help but notice how the nobleman's tapered waist contrasted impressively against broad shoulders that spoke to years of athleticism. He wondered what it would feel like to brace one hand on that waist and the other on one of those shoulders while he--

"What is that?" Hank asked suddenly as Boris turned to face him, open robe flaunting his alluring torso.

I'm trying to be brave

His handwriting was scrawled across the nobleman's chest. He had to be hallucinating. It was impossible. This Boris looked nothing like his Boris. They acted so differently. 

"I won't pretend I'm not slightly offended you don't recognize me; I knew it was you the moment I saw your hair as you tended to April." He said offhandedly. "Initially I thought that perhaps my appearance was not to your liking, but then in my office-- I realized you simply had no idea who I was."

That was why he felt drawn to the other man. He took a step closer without meaning to. It was a dream, it had to be. Twenty-seven years of waiting-- Could it really, finally be happening?

"You are a hard man to locate, Hank. I have been trying since 1982." Those teasing, beguiling eyes were locked on his. "Tell me, did your family lose my card? Your father assured me it would be kept safe. My last name is rather ubiquitous, at the very least you could have done a cursory internet search and found me by the mid nineties."

"I never knew your last name. My mom got sick a few years later and my dad left. I think he took the card with him." Hank replied mechanically. 

"That was what happened in 1989, your mother passed. I'm sorry. I recall her being very hard on you when we met; I would have liked the opportunity to know her better." Boris reached out and took his hand, carefully avoiding his soulmark. The man expertly walked the line between sympathy and cloying pity that most people didn't seem to understand. "My father passed shortly after we met so even without our bond I know how difficult the loss of a parent is. Knowing you were in pain while there was nothing I could do to help-- I would have done anything to be there for you."

Hank frowned. "Wait, how did you know something happened in 1989?"

"Through the bond." Boris answered, tilting his head slightly. "I have felt all your strong emotions since 1982. Do you not feel mine?"

Hank thought back to waking up in the middle of the night just before his ninth birthday, chest filled with an excruciating pain he couldn't explain. Feeling shocked for no particular reason a few years later. The sorrow. So much sorrow and guilt. Emotions that didn't make sense had flooded him for so long he couldn't remember life before them-- and suddenly it all clicked into place. Those feelings had never been his. They were Boris'. The superficially glib man before him was actually surprisingly multifaceted. Hank closed his eyes to really focus on the emotions thrumming inside him. Boris had been smirking until a moment ago, but his emotions were a swirling mix of trepidation and affection and guilt and more than a little lust. There was nothing blithe or superficial below the surface.

"When my mom was sick I used to stay up late sometimes just to get some time for myself." Hank said, reopening his eyes. "Every night, right around ten, I'd start feeling sad without knowing why. Or stressed. Or angry. That was you, wasn't it? You moderated your feelings all day and waited until you thought I was asleep."

Boris nodded slowly. "I did."

"And when I went to college, you started feeling it in the mornings instead." He guessed.

"Yes, I assumed you were more likely to stay up late than wake up early then." Boris confirmed with a look that made him seem almost ill at ease. "When you turned eighteen I was already working in finance. To stay apprised of the Swiss and German markets I found it best to wake no later than three-thirty in the morning-- So I did have many reasons to switch. Ultimately I do not know how it affected you, but mornings became my time for quiet reflection and I owe my greatest refuge to you."

"You've been watching out for me this whole time." He had been wrong all those years. He hadn't been alone at all. "I started playing football after my mom died. I fought really hard, but there were times when Evan and I couldn't be fostered together and football gave me an outlet. When I went to college and wasn't good enough to play there-- not that I had time with pre-med-- I started waking up before five every morning to run." Hank took another step forward, drawn to the man-- No, drawn to his soulmate who was finally, finally just inches away. "My favorite time of day is the quiet and the calm before dawn. As far back as I can remember I've felt like a part of me was missing-- Except in the morning. Boris, I think we've spent almost every morning of the last twenty-four years together."

Tentatively Hank reached out to trace the letters on his soulmate's skin. The first brush of his fingers against the mark sent fire racing through him until every nerve ending was humming with pleasure. He had never felt so alive and they were barely touching. There was so much more he needed: he wanted to lazily map every inch of the man's skin with his fingertips, he wanted to feel those arms around him as they fell asleep, he wanted to talk about every moment they'd missed in one another's lives. He wanted to spend every moment making up for lost time.

"So, what do you want to do for the next twenty-seven years?" Hank asked suggestively.

"There's something I need to tell you." Boris confessed as his thumb brushed over his bonded's soulmark and sent sparks through them both. "I mentioned my father died when I was sixteen? He was forty-three. My grandfather died at forty-four, and his father died around the same age. Hank, I turn forty-four in a few weeks."

Hank felt absolute calm descend on him like a blanket. He had been dealing with medical emergencies professionally since he was twenty-five and personally since he was fifteen. He was prepared, his mind already planning out testing and treatment options. 

"You have a genetic disease."

"Yes, and it's quite fatal." Boris answered. His glib tone had returned but Hank could feel the fear radiating off him in waves. "I do not have twenty-seven years, but I would like to spend the remainder of whatever time I have left by your side."

"Boris, I am not going to lose you again." Hank promised. "First thing tomorrow morning you are going to give me your medical files, and we are going to make a plan. Together."

"Hank--"

"Do you trust me?" He questioned.

Boris nodded. "Of course."

"We're going to figure it out. I waited twenty-seven years for you, I'm not letting you go this time." Hank insisted. "When my father left and my mother died and Evan was being fostered away from me I thought I'd lost everything. Then when I was in med school Evan moved to Queens for college and I realized you don't lose someone until they've died. He and I reconnected, and you and I? We found each other again. The universe put us together for a reason. We're going to save your life together, and I'm not going to lose someone I've loved and waited for since I was eight. Okay?"

"Okay." Boris agreed. "I trust you. I love you. We will figure this out. Together."

"Together." Hank promised.

He hadn't realized how close they'd gotten until his nose brushed against his soulmate's. Finally, finally they were together again and if it wasn't perfect it was close enough. This time he closed the distance, lightly pressing their lips together in a tender assurance that everything would be okay. Boris kissed him back slowly, lingering, savoring the sweet knowledge that they would spend the rest of their lives together and with nothing but adventures before them.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you and 100% credit to Jadziana for sharing her Headcanon about Boris' full title, letting me borrow the names and titles she'd picked, and walking me though how European nobility works! 
> 
> All dates are canon-compliant, I did a post over on Tumblr with a complete and sourced pre-series timeline. It's ChampionMuffin if anyone doesn't know and wants to check it out. 
> 
> What's next? I have THREE series finale fix its coming up! One where Jill initiates, one where Hank initiates, and one where Boris initiates a 100% guaranteed Horis HEA as always. Jill's is the shortest so keep an eye out!
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay.


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